The Fortress
by YouHaven'tReadTheLastOfMe
Summary: Time will heal what we cannot. We will rebuild each other and then we will slowly work outwards. This is an alternate ending to Allegiant where Caleb sacrifices himself, and Tris and Tobias are left to rebuild society.
1. Chapter 1

I sit slumped on the hospital bed. My injured arm is propped on a stack of pillows. There's a faceless nurse sewing stitches through the bullet wound in my arm. When she offered me a local anesthetic, something to numb the pain, I refused. I told her to save it for someone who wanted it. There was nothing selfish in my refusal, nothing at all. I deserve the sharp bursts of pain that ignite my upper arm. I deserve the guilt, all of it. I grit my teeth and I wait.

_They should be back soon, _I think._ He should be back soon. _

"Just a few more," the nurse says to me, but her voice sounds like it's under water, and I grit my teeth against the pain.

_I shouldn't be here. I should be dead._

"There we go," she says. I barely register the snip of scissors as the excess thread is cut off. "You know the drill. Keep it clean. Antibiotic before bed and in the morning, and you can take a pain killer if you need to."

I nod my head. Mumble a thank you. Don't tell her that I don't want the pain killer, that I don't deserve the pain killer, that I should be dead.

She leaves and the door shuts with a barely perceptible sound. Instantaneously, the dam breaks on the memories and the guilt, and they all flood in to drown me.

_"If I don't survive," I told Caleb, "tell Tobias I never wanted to leave him."_

_ Running._

_ Explosives._

_ Bullet to my arm._

_ Death serum._

_ David. _

_ Caleb, bursting in, shouting "Tell him yourself!" and slamming his hand on the green button. But not before a gun shot sounded. Time stopped. A hundred, a thousand, a million memories flew through my head. Words died on my tongue. I could feel every muscle give up, slacken as I watched._

_ David shot him in the head just before his hand touched the button, erasing everything, and then I watched my brother die on the floor right in front of me. His eyes were still open. Wet. Drinking in everything._

_ I exploded into motion. Through the haze of my vision, I saw David lift his gun at me, and my adrenaline-fed instincts fueled me as I dropped to the ground. The shock vibrated through every fiber of me, reverberating in my bones. _

_ The bullet sailed over me. I snapped my body into a crouch, every muscle burning. _

_ I ripped the gun from David's hand. Aimed it right between his eyes. Fear clouded them, but he didn't look surprised."I'll see you in Hell," I muttered. And I grabbed his right hand and fired a bullet through it. He'll never shoot anyone else._

Caleb sacrificed himself for me. Caleb died because of me. When he was planning to before, it wasn't for me. I don't know what his motives were then and I don't care to because, whatever they were, they weren't...good. Maybe it's best that they fade with him. But his last action was for me, and for a chance at a future.

I had forgiven him. I was going to die for him, almost did.

And then he sacrificed himself for me. Like my mother and father did. My family is gone. They all died for me and I can never live up to that. I can never be worth the sacrifice of three lives. In their final moments, each of them were so selfless, and braver than I'll ever be. My mother and my father and my brother gave their lives so that I could continue mine, and without my actions, the four of us would be having dinner right now in our plain house in the Abnegation sector. Or we would be asking about each other's days. Or cleaning the house.

Or enslaved by the Erudite.

Either way, we would be together.

A tear drips onto my clasped hands. Then another. And another, until my fingers, white from being clenched so tightly, are soaked with tears.

My chest has been cracked open, ribs pried apart by guilt. The empty cavity where my heart used to be is filled with emotions that would take an eternity to identify and count. White, bare walls around me close in. Stale air suffocates me, incapacitates my lungs and I feel everything and nothing all at once.

Time is nonexistent as I drain myself of tears.

I should be searching for injured people. I should be helping to clean and bind wounds. I should be holding hands and patting shoulder as my friends say goodbye.

There are about a thousand things I should be doing right now, and I can't seem to muster up the will to do any of them. I just want to sit here. And cry. And mourn. I need to rebuild the walls around me before I can give anyone the chance to break them.

I recall the countless times my family saved me. The little times, the ones that no of them can—could remember, and yet they meant the world to me. The big times which I will make sure _everybody _ remembers.

I choke on a sob. I am a useless creature, overcome by emotion and powerless to do anything but to sit here and grieve, letting the thoughts attack my mind. Somewhere deep inside me, I know that I will not be sleeping soundly for a very long time. Maybe this is my body's way of telling me that I need to rest, just pause for a moment and wring myself of grief. Or maybe this is my body's way of proving to me exactly how useless I am.

The dull light from overhead flickers over the small puddle of tears collecting at my feet. A puddle of tears for an ocean of sadness. I shouldn't be alive. I should be dead. I should be with Caleb, with my mother and father.

I know the instant he walks in. He is short of breath, from running, maybe, and I can feel the heated energy rolling off of him. I can't meet his eyes though. I just...I can't.

His footsteps pound against the linoleum and he has abandoned all grace and stealth as he strides toward me. Tobias engulfs me in his arms, and crushes me against his chest, his grip too tight and perfect. My wounded arm complains and I tell it to shut up as I cry into his shoulder.

He's alive.

I'll be okay.

I'll be okay for him.

I feel his silent tears in my hair. His chest shakes against mine, our breaths rattling in syncopation. His hands slide roughly up my spine and over my shoulders. Their heat warms me. Trembling fingers cup my jaw and lift it upwards so that I am forced to meet his gaze.

That dream-colored blue is swimming with tears. They drill into me like I am the only thing on the planet that deserves his attention. I don't know what I look like. Nor do I care. All I know is that against all odds we have made it to this point, and he's staring at me and I'm staring back at him and we're both incredulous.

"Whatever happened," he says fiercely, and his voice is a new day, "we'll take care of it tomorrow. Together. But right now, I'm here, and you're here. And I love you. And we-"

Whatever he was going to say is lost against my mouth. We twine together, and my fingers unhesitatingly slide under his shirt to trace facets of muscle. He feels whole. He feels beautiful.

His nimble fingers climb up my spine. They flatten suddenly and press me against him, even closer than before. My touch is trapped between our bodies, between hard and soft, between his smooth skin, warm from the hurriedly pumping blood underneath, and his dirty t-shirt.

Tobias tilts his head, tastes the shape of my smile and presses relentless, urging kisses against my lips. I feel vital. I feel his hands, smoothing down my back and curving along the sides of my thighs. He grips them there and hoists my legs around his waist, holding me against every inch of him. I am pressed against the architecture of his body and I know that there will be time to map it more thoroughly later. Looping my arms around his neck, I pull my entire body upwards, so that I can align it with his again.

"I love you," I murmur against his mouth. I'm sure he can feel the kiss and taste in the words, and his breath mingles with mine as he says it fearlessly back. I touch kisses along the stubbly line of his jaw. Our hearts hammer against each other. I whisper in his ear one more time before I loosen his hold on me and stand on my own two feet. The world sways around me.

Without him, without his touch, I can feel the grief swallow me up again. I can tell whatever demons haunt him come to claim him as we part because his shoulders tense and his eyes harden.

"Tomorrow," I promise. "We'll take care of things."

"Yes," he says. "And after that...after that, then we get to the part we've been waiting for." He says the words grimly at first, but in them lies hope.

I lace my fingers strongly around his. Looking down at them, they appear to be unbreakable with both of us holding so tightly.

I swivel my eyes back up at him.

"We'll be okay," I tell him, also reassuring myself.

"We'll be okay."

I nod, and Tobias bends down to brush a kiss just above the stitches in my bicep. It hurts a little, but I feel no pain. When he pulls away, I can see that a small smile transforms his face, and there is not a doubt in my mind that the two of us will, after everything we've been through, will be alright. Hands clasped between us, we step outside and back out into the real world.

We find Christina first. I am tackled in a sobbing bear hug and the hand that isn't attached to Tobias's wraps around her. She is loud and strong and crying unabashedly and she is my best friend. She's practically shouting something into my ear, but I can't tell what she's saying. When she breaks away, a sad little grin is plastered on her face.

"So I guess we can all live happily ever after now, huh?" she asks. There is so much those words don't say—how much mourning it will take until we can all be at peace, how much rebuilding it will require so that we all feel some semblance of safety, how much work we must put in, in order to choose happiness.

I glance at Tobias, whose expression is conflicted. Neither of us feel totally safe yet. But the immediate danger, the impending danger has ceased. The two of us must slowly let our guards down eventually.

"Yeah," I say to her. "Yeah, I guess so."

The three of us walk in silence to the kitchen, where we hope to find food. A few familiar faces pass us by, and we offer nothing more than nods of heads or small smiles. I see Zeke and I move to give him a hug, to console him in any way I know how, but the emptiness in his eyes stop me. I retie my hand to Tobias's and we all walk away—I must let him grieve on his own, and I feel a sting of pity that he doesn't have anyone to grieve with. Well, he has his mother, but he must be strong for her. Who will be strong for him?

People mill about the kitchen, but no one laughs or smiles. Those that we see remember, were untouched by the memory serum. I can tell because all of them share the same expression: caught halfway between sad and happy, that nebulous, waiting emotion. I overhear some conversation that tells me that those who have forgotten, the people of Chicago, some of the people in the compound, are being rounded up outside, are being told some version of the truth.

"I, uh, I'm going to go find Zeke. See if I can help with anything," Christina tells us after grabbing a muffin. And I know this is her way of gracefully leaving us. "You two eat and then go _cuddle_ or something." And I know this is her way of ungracefully being my best friend. She turns over her shoulder and leaves the kitchen. I watch her walk away, attempting to give Tobias and I some space, some peace, so that we can begin to heal.

Time will heal what we cannot.

We will rebuild each other and then we will slowly work outwards.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

In the morning, Tobias and I awake in separate beds. We get dressed, and prepare ourselves for whatever today might bring. We find some semblance of breakfast in the kitchen and then we find a quiet place to eat.

Tobias and I sit in a secluded hallway that branches off of the kitchen, staring at our toast. The burnt bread looks as if something had sucked all of the life out of it. Right now, I feel like toast.

Someone walks by. He's tall, much taller than Tobias, and would tower over me if I were standing. He is built like a stick figure and has wavy brown hair flops over his forehead, obscuring his eyes.

"Hi. Uh," he stutters. "They me told to go around and tell people that the, um, memorial service is at eleven. It's um...out the back where they keep the planes."

"What's your name?" Tobias asks. His voice sounds unintentionally rough, and I can see that the kid is intimidated by it.

"B-Brett," is his mumbled response. Brett stares down at his shoes, miles away from his eyes which are now totally hidden by his hair.

Tobias looks up at him. "Thank you, Brett."

His tone is kind and sincere. Brett gives me a wary, confused glance and stumbles down the hallway to spread the news.

We continue to stare at our toast.

"So," I say, attempting to fill the silence.

"So."

Back to our toast.

I feel too nauseous to eat, bursting with...sadness? Grief? Shock? I don't know why, though, because everything ultimately turned out as planned. Caleb sacrificed himself. Nearly every living, breathing human in Chicago forgot _everything. _David no longer has any power over the Bureau—over anything. And people are gone. I had steeled myself for the losses—at least I thought I had, but it clearly wasn't enough.

_How can all of this emptiness hurt so much?_

"Do you have a black shirt I can have?" I ask him suddenly.

Tobias seems perplexed, but nods and says, "Of course."

I set my toast down and brush the crumbs off of my my hands.

"I want to wear black to the memorial," I explain. "My brother loved me. Somewhere inside him, he loved me, and I think that when he...when he...found me, it was trying to show me. And—"

"You don't need to explain yourself," he interrupts.

He grabs my hand, not holding it, but running his fingertips over the lines of my palm and exploring the creases that connect each of the joints. His thumb brushes over the pulse in my wrist. I wonder if he can feel it quicken. I wonder if he knows that it did without even feeling it.

"I know," I say. "I know. But maybe this whole 'sharing your feelings' crap is worth something."

Tobias lifts my hand to his mouth and presses a kiss at the base of my hand. "I wasn't aware that you had feelings," he jokes, whispering against my skin. I feel the shape of his words and the warmth of his breath.

"Oh really?" I tease back. "Most of them are about you, anyway. I thought you might have guessed."

"You'd think, but no." Another kiss to my wrist. Mmm. "You might have to prove it to me later."

"That can be arranged."

We stop talking and the sadness fills the tenuous silence. I want to be happy. And free. And with Tobias. All of the above. But how can I be so...light...when my family _died _for me? Died at all? They should be here. My dad should be trying to intimidate Tobias and my mother should be reprimanding him, trying to make everybody comfortable. My brother should be making inappropriate faces behind the two of them. Those faces would tempt me to laugh.

There's a part of me that feels as though it's wrong to want to start my new life until I've properly said goodbye to my old one.

I reclaim my hand and glance at my watch. 10:17. "Let's go," I tell him. "I want to shower before the memorial."

As we stand, we pick up our burnt toast. The bread, stale and blackened and lifeless, is tossed into the trashcan. I like to think that's symbolic somehow.

. . .

Water beads and slides off of the plastic around my arm. I had to wrap the stitches up in something so that the damaged flesh would be protected from infection, but I think that the tightly bound plastic wrap that is digging into my skin might be doing more harm than good.

This is the last time, the best and only time, that I will say goodbye to family. I scrub away bitterness and animosity and dirt and sweat and I let the water run over me until I feel clean again. Stepping out of the shower and wrapping myself in a fraying towel, I brush my teeth and comb through my hair with my fingers. I stare at my reflection. I appear strong and stubborn in the cracked mirror, as if my body is saying "I will not mourn for the rest of my life". But my eyes are sad. And tired. And more than anything, I want this day to be done.

I dress in my clothes from before and walk outside.

I find Tobias in the room with all of the cots and he is leafing through his meager bag of clothes. He withdraws a black t-shirt and passes it to me. A similar black shirt is fitted over his frame, and the color makes the dark blue color of his eyes striking against his skin. I marvel at how his moroseness has made him even more handsome.

When I pull my own shirt over my head, there is nothing sensual or sexy or seductive about the action. My bare skin is cold under the air and warm under his gaze. It is simply a shedding of clothes. There's nothing simple about the look in those eyes as I tug his shirt over my head. The fabric drapes over me, and it smells like him. I will be wrapped in him as I face my family at the memorial.

I check my watch. It's 10:48, time to head out to the plane yard. Time to say goodbye.

Hand in hand, we walk through the hallways that are too empty and too crowded, and out into the sunlight that is so bright and pure and fresh that they will never get to see. The planes spark in the sun and my family and I will never fly together. The sky is blue and weather is calm and. It. Mocks. Me.

Tears fall without my permission. I am suddenly a torrent of numbness and sadness and aching and I wish. I wish. I don't know. I spend my tears here and prepare my heart to shatter as people gather under the shade of a massive jet.

Only a few people come, just the ones who remember that they have someone to mourn, that they should be mourning them. Me. Tobias. Zeke. His mother. Christina. A few others. Cara stands in front of us and reads from a list of names. Slowly. Each name fills the endless space, expanding out into nothingness. I don't recognize most of them. But the ones that I do recognize shake my bones as if my entire body stuttered. Froze for an instant.

When Cara calls _Caleb Prior_, I am totally numb.

When Cara calls _Natalie Prior_, I am totally numb.

When Cara calls _Andrew Prior_, I am totally numb.

_ Uriah. _

_ Will. _

_ Marlene. _

_ Lynn. _

_ Tori. _

For all of them, I am numb.

Goodbye.

"Now is the most important part of our lives," Cara says when she has exhausted the list of names. "We have mourned, and for our loved ones, a lifetime of sadness might not be enough. However, a lifetime of sadness is no way to honor them. We must cherish the memories of them and, most importantly, create new ones. We have the rare opportunity to restart. Let's make this life so good and rich that the restart wasn't wasted. Mourn. But refrain from mourning for a longer time than necessary."

The words soak into me, into every fiber of my foundation, and I feel free. I have said goodbye. Now I will go and live a good and rich life that will make every sacrifice, every wound, every minute spent in war worth it. I grab Tobias's hand, not at all shyly, and I look up at him. His eyes reflect the color of the sky, the two blues like golden sunlight in deep water.

I smile up at him, genuinely. I have spent too much of my life living for others. Selflessly. Bravely. Recklessly. Morosely. I have spent enough time mourning. I know that the only way to honor my family is to _live_ and not let the repercussions of their actions shape mine.

_Let's go live_, I tell myself.

And I do.

. . .

Later that night, Tobias and I find an empty room. We relax on the couch, me sitting between his legs and leaning against his chest. His fingers are lost in my hair, toying with the strands as I read about airplanes on the glass tablet that I never returned. I see the squiggles of words but they just sort of smear together. My boyfriend is distracting me.

Tobias tugs on a lock of my hair and I'm not in the mood for reading anymore.

"Can I tell you something?" he asks from behind me. His voice is sandpaper, and I'm tempted to twist around and taste it, to see if it feels as rough on me as it sounds.

"Yeah, of course."

His head bends toward mine and he gently tucks my hair over the other shoulder. His breath slips across my bare throat before he speaks again.

"I am _very _excited to start my life with you."

"Is that so?" I ask, trying to mask the fact that my heart is racing.

"Mmhm." The sound rumbles against my skin.

That's it. I abandon the tablet on the ground.

The instant I turn to face him, his hands find my waist and mine fly to frame his jaw. Our mouths claim each other and we pass our exultation back and forth between our lips. The kisses are happy. Elated. It still amazes me how perfectly we sew together, how we have each other memorized.

I grasp the hem of his shirt. Slide my hands along his skin as I push the shirt up and tug it over his head. I toss it away. Gone.

Good riddance.

My fingertips explore the landscape of bare skin and I commit the friction of my skin against his to memory.

I am engulfed in the flames that stretch over his ribcage. I drown in his eyes. We have become so closely entangled that I don't know where I stop and he begins.

Tobias grabs my hips and flips me over. My shirt—the black one he gave me—disappears and suddenly he's everywhere. His knee fits between mine and his arm presses me up to him and his mouth is disassembling me, piece by piece.

He slowly kisses the smallest bird on my collar bone. Then the next and the next. And then he kisses the empty space, right over my heart where the next bird would be if I had one. Where he would be. Where I plan to keep him.

. . .

Before I let my eyes flutter open, I process the feel arms around my torso and an endless expanse of warmth surrounding me. I would be happy to stay in this place for eternity. This is a place of murmured "_I love you"_sand clinging fingers and bareness and that feeling that we are invincible together. I draw circles on his chest with my middle finger.

His eyes open gradually, finding mine immediately, like he was already staring at me in his dreams and all he had to do was open his eyes.

Then the screaming starts.

"Somebody help me!" a girl's voice cries from outside the hall. "They think I'm crazy! Somebody help! Please! I'm not crazy! I'm not! Help me!"

I sigh.

So close to a perfect morning. So close.

We spring apart and quickly pull our clothes back on. Together, we burst out of the room. The girl is running up and down the hallway, screaming, the same thing over and over.

"Hey, hey, hey," Tobias says. "Calm down. What's wrong?" he demands.

She has a strong build and a pile of dark blonde curls atop her head. Freckles are sprayed across her narrow nose. Her eyes are brown and dripping with tears. Her breaths heave. "They don't believe me!" she cries. "My family, they don't believe me! They don't remember anything!"

"How old are you?" I ask.

The questions surprises her. Tobias too.

"Fifteen," she replies, her voice shaking. "My name's Alice."

In Chicago, she wouldn't have been tested yet. She wouldn't have known if she was Divergent.

Or resistant to the serums. To memory serum, in particular.

"You remember Chicago?" I ask, just to be sure. "The factions? All of it?"

She nods, drags a hand across her eyes.

I meet Tobias's eyes and I know he's thinking the same thing I am.

"Why don't they believe me?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three:

"Do you know something about this?" Alice cries.

She glares at me with red, puffy eyes and then turns on Tobias.

"Don't lie to me!" she screams. "I'll know if you are! Just—just tell me the truth! Why doesn't anybody remember anything?"

"Alice, please, just calm—"

"Calm down? You want me to calm down? You don't get it! You won't understand, I'm..."

She storms past us down the hallway, her sloppy footsteps loud on the tile floor. Desperately, she flings open a random door and enters the room. We are right on her heels and follow her through the doorway and into what is ostensibly an unused office space.

And then she breaks. Right in front of us, Alice collapses to the ground and neither of us bother to catch her. Tobias and I sink down next to her, not touching her, just waiting patiently until she wrings herself of her tears. She sobs, violently, and her entire body quakes.

I try to imagine what it might be like if I woke up and everybody around me was wiped squeaky clean and I was still a filthy mess. I would probably be in the same situation as Alice. I would be a hurricane of tears and jagged breaths, desperate enough for answers that I'd let total strangers see me at my weakest.

I've never been comfortable crying in front of people, not even Tobias, and I suppose I'm just as uncomfortable watching other people cry. How can I console her? Should I?

Tobias awkwardly stretches out a hand to pat her back. She recoils and then suddenly latches onto him, throwing her arms around his neck and tucking her face into his shoulder. His hands spring up as if to say to me _it's not my fault_ and I just shrug. Keeping as much distance from Alice is possible, he places his hands on her back, his eyes on me the entire time.

That endless blue is smoldering.

"Sorry," he mouths.

Then I reply, whispering, "Nothing to apologize for."

And it's true. Maybe if he'd hugged her tightly to him, murmured things in her ear, or...no. Maybe then I'd be jealous.

When her sobs calm somewhat, Tobias carefully extracts her as if she were something very delicate and very foul smelling. "S-sorry," she mumbles. "I'll be...fine. Could you just...explain?"

So we do.

We define Divergence and how that might explain why she's immune to the memory serum. Then we tell her that Divergence doesn't exist and how that explains nothing as to why she remembers her life before.

Damaged genes is harder to explain because both Tobias and I are walking on egg shells, trying to leave our tangled emotions out of it, trying not to start an argument. We tell her that damaged genes are a hoax. We tell her that her supposedly pure genes don't exist.

Finally we tell her why we had to wipe the memories of thousands of people. We try to tell her why it will be worth it, and how every action is a step towards a better future.

I tell her that my family died so that we could have a blank canvas to rebuild the world.

I tell her that my friends died. And others.

"I don't know why the two of us are immune to the serum," I say honestly. "I don't. I chose to remember, and I get that you didn't, but either way...either way we have to live with it. Those of us that remember just have to make sure that history doesn't repeat itself, you know?"

I speak gently. At least, I try to. I realize that every word I say is shaping this poor kid, just a year younger than me. It's funny—it's sad, actually—how I think off myself so much older. My experiences have forced me through maturity. I have had to make choices that defied well-supported leaders. I had to have confidence in my beliefs enough so that I wouldn't hesitate to fight. Thinking back, I don't like it. Maybe ignorance really is bliss.

"Listen," Alice says, much calmer now, "I totally agree with you guys that you had to, y'know, reset things or whatever. Because everything sucked before, going from one dictator to the next. I mean, it's a bunch to process, but I can deal with that. That's, like, not a problem."

"Then why are you upset?" Tobias asks. There's an edge to his voice. Alice notices and cowers slightly, her eyes turned down.

"Look, I don't really want to talk about my problems to people I just met."

"Then why did you run screaming down the hallways? You could have asked a number of people that worked here about the memory wipe. You would have noticed several days ago that those around you didn't remember anything crucial about their lives before," he says to her. "Why is it is big deal now?"

Alice looks angry, tears in her eyes again, turning the brown color swampy and dull.

"Look, mister," she starts.

"Four," he interjects.

"What the hell kind of name is that?" she retorts. Suddenly, her anger is blazing. "Is that some kind of rating? Measurement? Because, to be honest, you're kind of a bastard, but you're a hot bastard and—"

I punch her in the face.

My knuckles sting but she shut up and that made it worth it. Her head cracks back and when she looks at me again, she is in awe and blood blossoms beneath the skin of her cheek. I'd rate that a ten out of ten.

"That _so _wasn't necessary," she spits.

"Yeah, sorry, but I don't really care," I reply brusquely. Tobias's eyes burn into me from my peripheral. I glance over at him. He looks proud and, uncharacteristically, smug. I know that I don't need to fight his battles for him, but that wasn't one of his battles; he knows that. He drops a wink at me. "Why is it so important now that people don't remember your life before? Why wasn't it just as important a few days ago?"

Tears well up in her eyes again. Alice lets her head fall and she stares at her feet. As her mouth moves, nothing audible comes out and I ask, "What?"

She moves her mouth some more.

"What? Speak up."

"I'm pregnant," she mutters.

Oh.

_Oh._

But Tobias doesn't hear her. "Speak _up_."

"I'm pregnant, okay?" she yells. "And the dad doesn't remember that we were together. How the hell am I supposed to tell him? Just walk and say, 'Oh yeah, by the way, my name's Alice and we had unprotected sex _multiple times _which you won't remember and now your kid is growing inside of me. Have a nice day!'"

"You're...fifteen," Tobias protests.

"Almost _sixteen_," she clarifies, attitude ringing in her squeaky voice. "And _you guys _are doing it. Rumpled clothes, sleepy eyes, both walking out of the same room. Nice job trying to keep it secret or whatever." Pointing a finger at me she adds, "She's, what, my age? Younger? You _really_ can't say I'm doing something wrong."

"Insulting me won't do you any good," I reply calmly, before Tobias can intervene. "We happen to know a lot about the serum. We _might_ be able to help you. Why should we when all you've done is scream and insult us?"

"Because I deserve it! I need help!" she cries hysterically. "This is the first kid that will be born into the new world, or clean slate, or whatever crap you've been calling it. You want this kid safe and healthy, right? Right? So help me, damn it."

I'm speechless. Truly. Alice's constantly swinging moods have left me baffled and I don't know whether I want to help her, or if I should, or even if I could. How could I possibly help her? Supposing I did want to?

Tense silence hangs in the air for a moment.

Finally, Tobias is the one to break it. "Here's some advice." His tone is dark and forthright. I notice that he stares right at her when he speaks, like he's trying to drill the message into her brain with both his eyes and words. "Tell a doctor. Right now, they're the only ones that can really help you. Stop being impulsive. And learn to deal with the consequences of your actions. Now. Your whole life is now devoted to making sure this kid grows up safe and happy and healthy. It's not our job to make sure that happens. It's yours. Go tell the guy, tell your parents, tell a doctor, whoever. Just do everything in your power to make sure that you don't screw up this kid.''

Alice looks taken aback. Stunned. She blinks several time, clearing away the shock of his little tirade.

I find myself doing the same thing.

She mumbles an apology for bothering us and walks out of the door, shutting it very quietly behind her. And just like that, she's gone.

"Well, that was..." I start, but I find that I'm unable to finish.

"Yeah."

. . .

After dinner, we decide to go for a walk. The fresh air feels pleasant in my lungs and on my face as we step along the dirt. We're not walking anywhere in particular and the fact that we can do that, just stroll aimlessly, is an unknown luxury.

Our fingers are linked together, swinging slightly between us. Countless miles ahead of us, mountains burst from the ground and the sun sets behind them, dragging all sort of smeared colors with it as it sinks. Purple and pink and orange and the second most beautiful blue swirl over the sky. A gentle breeze sweeps the clouds into fish scale patterns. Everything is quiet. Everything is calm.

One by one, the stars reveal themselves. Out here, literally in the middle of nowhere, I can see thousands of them, a handful of glitter tossed onto nothingness.

"What would you do if I told you I was pregnant?" I blurt out. I don't know why I asked.

Tobias stops dead in his tracks.

Turns slowly to face me.

"Are you?" he asks cautiously.

"No, no. No, I'm not. The whole thing with Alice just got me thinking, I guess."

We stand still. Gaze at each other. Then keep walking.

I realize that he hasn't answered me.

"I mean, I don't plan to be pregnant any time soon, if ever. I don't know. I don't want to be making those kinds of decisions right now. But I'm curious—genuinely curious—how would you react?"

"Are you suggesting that—" he starts, his voice defensive, heated.

"No," I say calmly. "I'm just curious."

"Why would you be curious? I mean, for God's sake, kids? Right now, the thought of it is just...nauseating."

"Is the prospect of us starting a family together really so _nauseating_?"

Something stings in my chest like a wound.

"Well, at this instant it is. Can you really see the two of us with a _kid_, Tris?"

The stinging grows, radiates.

"And," he continues, "how can you possibly see me as a father? After all that Marcus—"

"Stop it," I say strongly. "Just stop. I was just thinking out loud, I didn't mean to put you on the defensive. Really. I'm sorry."

Quiet.

"I know. I'm sorry too."

We keep walking, the stars an umbrella overhead. The temperature noticeably drops and Tobias wraps a hand around my waist and tucks me against his side so that we're pressed together, sharing body heat.

"I don't want to even begin to think about it now, but don't let what Marcus did to you ruin how you see yourself."

Why doesn't he see it? That, even though he's broken, he's beautiful. And that even though he has every excuse in the book to hunker down and hide in a corner for his entire life, that he's stronger because of his determination to rebel against all of the horrors in his life.

I tell him, "I love every part of you. The whole parts_ and_ the broken parts. Because that's what love is. And I will always be here to listen and I will always be open to forgiveness. But I need you to do the same for me."

He brushes a hand along my cheek and meets my gaze. His fingers finds the space under my chin and he lifts it up to meet his, lips searching for mine. The softest of kisses. The gentlest of touches. The brightest of stars above us.

"I will do that."


End file.
